


Burning

by nsflily (rdmlily)



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Glove Kink, Hand Jobs, I'm no good at this stuff, M/M, Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Porn with Feelings, Rutting, Wet Dream, but i tried
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:34:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25399996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rdmlily/pseuds/nsflily
Summary: Technically a repost cause I know how pseuds work now and can tuck these away. Anyway
Relationships: Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Kudos: 15





	Burning

**Author's Note:**

> Technically a repost cause I know how pseuds work now and can tuck these away. Anyway

Usually, he would revel in the chance to be laden with the many, many, gods forsake how many layers of his beloved's overcoat and the luxurious throws that cast over their bed. Today however, they made the Keeper miserable. Stifling heat crawled across his skin, searing pores and making his clothes stick in ways he'd think on for no longer than a few moments before feeling ill. The urge to shed everything off was all encompassing but he would hate the pull the man next to him from what looked like fairly peaceful slumber. He doubted that the Ascian in question would be too offended, if not just a bit dramatic, nevertheless he chose to remain still. Feloria would never want to be the reason the poor man, after finally getting a semblance of rest, would be pulled from it so soon.

His final goodbye to his comrades had been bittersweet and in the moments of his decision one of them nearly attempted to strike him down, after all the time they had traveled together and strove for peace, equality, freedom, a blade raised against him shattered his heart to pieces. If not for the Ascian in question, Feloria would have surely been ready to accept it too, but strode further a veritable wall between them, Emet-Selch, and though he claimed it no pressing matter, the Miqo'te had seen strain in his usual nonchalance. Whether it pain or seething anger, Feloria would question naught. After lots of words, they'd faded into one of the commonplace portals at Emet-Selch's disposal, the Ascian heaving a heavily disgruntled sigh. Feloria resigned them to rest, and so for him to interrupt it would seem rude.

The heat, however, could have killed him. Carefully, the Keeper peeled himself from his beloved confines and wriggled his way atop the blankets taking a passing moment to assess himself. He'd yet to change from his armor, the cloth usually comfortable enough, and the semi tight top was... unusually so. A grimace formed, so he began to peel away his belted additions to finally remove the offending thing. The heat remained, though the room was cool enough to give his slick skin cause to shiver. He didn't like the sign of it.

The shirt and its accompaniments were folded gently and rest upon a stand off to the side. Even atop the coverings, half clothed and, begrudgingly, removed from Emet-Selch's hold, the singed feeling never faltered. Menphina must hate him, of all days at a time, it had to be this one.

A cooling touch to his arm made him jump, though a relieved sigh escaped his lips all the same. Heterochrome eyes drifted lazily to the source, a look of mildly amused concern found on the face of his companion. "Is aught amiss, my dear?"

A grumble from the Miqo'te. "I have a sinking feeling you more than likely know of it, much to my dismay. If you've truly been keeping eyes on me for so long." A disdainful snort and an eyeroll gave the corners of his lips a raise. "Aye, tis, erm... well..."

"'The misery of being partial beast?' I might have heard you utter it once." Feloria's eyes narrowed. "Or twice." Had he the heart for it he would have smacked the layer of cloth he dared call his love but his body protested in want of more touch. The notion seemed plain on his face however, for the Ascian but chuckled and went to raise himself up. "If looks could kill I may very well be on my death bed."

A soft sigh released, Feloria but simply sat there, his attention locked primal like to the gloved hand on his arm. He hated the racing thoughts, bid them away with little result. All he wanted was to rest, his journeys leaving him spent and his fallout with others leaving him aching in his soul. The hand gave a squeeze before his mind wandered any further, another falling to his cheek, thumbing over pale white scale and darkened grey skin. The scales seemed to sing against the touch and he cursed his mixed heritage only this once. They were not unusually sensitive, but during... this... they seemed like landmines. The shiver that took his spine and rung a most disdainful sound from his lips made him wish to peel the damnable things off if he could.

It seemed to not fall passed notice, but it also did not seem to particularly stir much of anything in his love. Mind wandering ill-fated to whether it was something Emet-Selch might have found repulsive stopped short of another caress and another gods forsaken mewl.

His limbs ached with the searing burn but his hands clasped the larger resting on his cheek. It felt nice, the sensation of a touch not his own in the infernal blaze his body was reeling him in. The hand on his arm moved only to push its owner upright before returning to the Miqo'te to bring him to sit in Emet-Selch's lap. Feloria felt a keen trap itself in his throat and he had every focus on strangling it when he found both hands gently rubbing against his cheeks, trailing a bit to his neck, his hair. He cursed his dubiously small frame, though Garlean frames made dwarves of Au Ra in most cases, so he could expect no less truly. Not that he was too small, but when a man's hand could all but splay his chest covered he felt as though the gods had had a laugh bringing him to fruition.

"My dear, you're thinking far too much again, can you not ever let your mind /stop/." Molten gold looked amusingly at the twist Feloria now felt on his face. "I can only smooth your skin so much, dare say wrinkles may take you under them if you keep on."

"Well, let them, if it will keep your hands where they are..." An absentminded lean into on the of gloved strokes made the ministrations still. "It feels quite nice..."

There was a short pause, a devilishly wry grin apparent for but a second, before the hand Feloria had found solace in shifted up into his hair. "Well, mayhap they'd enjoy roaming a bit more."

In an instant it was like an electric wire was placed about his sweat wetted skin, Emet-Selch's thumb just scantily gracing the inside of his right ear. Feloria felt himself turn to goo, fists clenching and clawing weakly at the hand resting on his cheek still, while he felt a tremor shoot through his legs. His tail smacked at the Ascian's legs, though weakly, a litany of extremely unflattering noises finding their way into the air between the two.

"That," the Keeper began between strangled puffs of air, "is simply unfair of you..."

A simple shrug given in reply. "Call me a bit greedy then, cause I'd simply have more, permitting."

Feloria felt the molten blood in his body rush to places it shouldn't, casting his gaze away to anywhere Emet-Selch wasn't. Surely he was no stranger to pleasing himself, this sort of unsavory business had happened a scant few times before his travels, and quite a few during. To be with another man was something he oft thought near impossible after nearly 40 years of being alive, and largely alone. Ignoring the heat pooling under his skin even more, he shuffled under the gaze he knew was there still.

"It feels a pity really that you'd so much as have a mewling fiend to tend to as.. well, our first... erm..."

The Ascian raised a brow, hands falling gently from the Miqo'te's freckled cheeks to rest in his lap. Another shuffling, the touch to the other's legs seeming to have given him another jolt. The arid silence drug on for a few moments before Emet-Selch full let his hands slide beneath the longkilt his dear still had yet remove. Feloria keened, a hand flying to his mouth, the other fisting a bit of the longkilt's fabric. He sounded as though he was trying to say words but the incomprehensible dribble that came matched the fury of his tail beating against Emet-Selch's legs once more. He decided at that moment there was naught else to be said on the matter, and let his head gently bump against the other's.

The very gentle touch drew Feloria out of his impending stupor, eyes drooping yet still gazing at the other man. He wasn't looking at him this time. After all the watching he'd apparently done to come to a certain conclusion, his eyes were now focused on his own hands. Which to Feloria's dismay, were still drawing up under that godsdamn skirt. Every bit closer he got, every part of his skin sung to be touched more and again.

"E-Emet you really d-" A small squeeze cut him off, his brain also immediately overloaded by those damnable gloves, the fabric seeming to set icy fire along his thighs, the nerves all but screaming in want. Drivel could scarce form around the horrifying amount of saliva he was failing to keep drooling from the corners of his mouth.

Almost as if he was completely ignoring him, Emet-Selch took another opportunity to squeeze, melding the muscles just a bit. He couldn't help the breathy laugh at how the smaller man nearly seemed to shudder more if at all possible. "Well, considering how often I've had.. the /pleasure/ of watching you handle this yourself, I have no qualms with, as you say 'mewling fiends', my dearest."

That seemed to bring out the Feloria he knew, a pair of yellow and orange eyes immediately snapped to attention as the Ascian gave him a passing glance. "Y-you said... You had said once or twice, you m-"

"Yes, yes, how /very/ crude of me." There were daggers being glared and it seemed to hold the full of his attention. Good. A hand snaking to a hip, the other lingering on a hem. A small kiss on pouting lips lead into a whisper. "I /am/ just a /bit/ of a storyteller, no?"

Objection lost immediately in his throat and strangled by a wretched groan of the other's name, Feloria felt absolutely filled with a magma in his veins. The gods forsaken fiend no sooner finished his sentence before digging his hand into his hip just enough to hold him still, as the other made swift movement of his small clothes, cloth for cloth as his gloved hand wrapped round his leaking self and gave it one quick pump. Stars danced in his eyes, noises drowned with saliva and clawed hands threading in brown and white locks grabbed whatever they could to keep him grounded. Dirty, absolutely abhorredly dirty of him.

Though complaints were currently far from his mind.

The time to think about words was far gone, words would have no meaning if he could manage them at any rate. It took every onze of willpower to keep from rutting himself into his beloved's hand like a beast, which nearly failed once Emet-Selch's other hand decided to move up. The release of his hip gave him little pause to start throwing them forward, if not for the hand now splayed across his burning chest once more to act as yet another anchor.

The heaving of his chest would have usually been calmed with just that touch alone, but the roiling in his groin made it hard to focus on the secure sensation of Emet-Selch's touch. The brush of their lips was absolutely lost in the mix of mewls and chants of the Ascian's name. It felt as though he was wringing every fiber of his being out of him. The precum he could hardly see behind the blur of pleasure covered the other's still gloved hand, granting more and more of the friction which Feloria could hardly stand any more of.

Claws dug into Emet-Selch's scalp, seemed to do little to agitate the Ascian, though the more rough tug he gave his love seemed to be spurred by it. That same roughness remained, though not unpleasant, and Feloria found himself wishing he had done that sooner. He could hardly think, pleasure drunk chants of his beloved's name drowned out all else save for the white hot coil in his gut. He wanted to give him some kind of warning but his hips only jerked into Emet-Selch's hand faster, all else muddled by drive and drowned out by an unrelentingly soft peppering of kisses. It was like whiplash. A soft brush of lips against his cheek in time with an all but wringing of his cock. The gentle bump of their foreheads for every primal rut of his own hips. Feloria was absolutely lost in it.

His orgasm sent him keening, back arched almost too far, the hand on his chest only serving to push him further. Further... Ah, he hardly registered it in the burning lull but Emet-Selch was lowering him back, removed from his place in the Ascian's lap as he came between the both of them. The larger man was like a shadow above him, his hand still making slower work of his spending member. Feloria's fingers laxed a touch, opting to lace in the threads of his hair instead of his skin. More gentle kisses, it was almost hard to believe this was someone he could have very well hated for what he had done, in another time. A different place...

The thought was rather quickly replaced by a jolt, a sharp electric shock up his spine. His muscles, though like rubber, cemented stock still at the sensation of something rubbing against his entrance. Emet-Selch was still firmly looming, kisses across starry freckles and under his jaw were making him dizzy with the ungodly feeling of something brushing against him. The Ascian's hand that had remained on his chest was ever present, the fabric of the glove rough against his now ever more sensitive skin. His other hand however, covered with his spend, was seeking to be elsewhere it seemed.

Though his voice hoarse with wanton use, Feloria managed to strangle out, "Emet-Selch, you'd.. better not be thinking of doing what I would assume..."

His only response was a gentle bite to the skin of this neck, and the wet fabric of the glove under him very well moving to do just what he assumed. The Ascian was very careful not to do too much, however. His index finger only slowly teased and rubbed the ring of muscle. The heat in the Miqo'te's veins surging forward again with a beastial need to have more. His protests seemed lost as his body relaxed and spasmed at the promise of being taken in any right. Yet, his lover never moved any further.

His hips rolled back against Emet-Selch's hand, his body, his mind, begging for at the promise but did he really want this to be their joining... Feloria almost felt sick with anger at himself. After gods know how long, found only to rut like a slutty heat-taken whore. He wanted nothing of it and yet every part of his body wanted every single thing his lover could wring out of him. Truly, he didn't deserve it.

So lost in thoughts yet again he hardly noticed the Ascian was now stock still over top of him, eyes locked on what was no doubt a contorted face of conflict. How embarrassing, really. If there was ever a time to not do this, it would plainly be now. Who would so forsake being with the one they had been separated from for so long.

Feloria, apparently.

The hand laid on his chest had moved, Emet-Selch resting his forearm beside the smaller man's head and letting his forehead once again touch against his own. The other hand, however, ceased its movement. In turn, Feloria found relative cohesion to stop his own, no matter how most his own body fought against him. It screamed for more, hot, burning, painful. Damnable, through and through. The noises wrung from his throat more like a struggle than a call for pleasure.

The scowl that he chanced to see flash across Emet-Selch's features made him feel all the more ill. He was disgusted after all. This wasn't his love, a mistake.

A mistake.

Mistake...

"That's quite enough of that now." The Ascian's voice was stern, a deep resound echoed through his normal light tone. Feloria felt himself shrink. "You.. no wonder you get into so much trouble so often, you are painfully /atrocious/ at keeping your thoughts from decorating your face." The gentle lilt in his voice was hidden by the scowl gracing his features, but Feloria felt a cool calmness nonetheless.

"My apologies... I am.. sorry to have caused such a fuss as it were..."

A scoff, though there was little disdain in the action, followed by a gentle kiss. Cold, calm, eased. A different heat swirled around his heart this time.

"Nothing, no matter how awful you may think it, would be enough to pull you from me again."

-  
-  
-

His heartbeat throbbed in his ears, body surging forward and tearing away the layers of comfortable linens. He patted his frame everywhere, clothed. Clothed. Definitely clothed. Almost as if in a panic he turned his body to face-

Ah, there he was. Face calm, arm still undisturbed by the Miqo'te's jostling movements as it rested across his waist.

His skin was flush, only with embarrassment. Any heat he felt surged to his cheeks almost enough to steam the cold air in the room through his ears.

That was truly a nightmare he'd rather never have again any time too soon.

**Author's Note:**

> might torment him more later we'll see how that goes


End file.
